A thousand years to you are like one day; they are like yesterday, already gone, like a short hour in the night.

You carry us away like a flood; we last no longer than a dream. We are like weeds that sprout in the morning,

Our life is cut short by your anger; it fades away like a whisper.

Seventy years is all we have--- eighty years, if we are strong; yet all they bring us is trouble and sorrow; life is soon over, and we are gone.

Jacob answered, "My life of wandering has lasted a hundred and thirty years. Those years have been few and difficult, unlike the long years of my ancestors in their wanderings."

My days pass by without hope, pass faster than a weaver's shuttle.

My days race by, not one of them good.

My life passes like the swiftest boat, as fast as an eagle swooping down on a rabbit.

We are all born weak and helpless. All lead the same short, troubled life.

We grow and wither as quickly as flowers; we disappear like shadows.

You don't even know what your life tomorrow will be! You are like a puff of smoke, which appears for a moment and then disappears.

Remember how short my life is; remember that you created all of us mortal!

But do not forget one thing, my dear friends! There is no difference in the Lord's sight between one day and a thousand years; to him the two are the same.

You punish our sins by your rebukes, and like a moth you destroy what we love. Indeed we are no more than a puff of wind!

Human beings are all like a puff of breath; great and small alike are worthless. Put them on the scales, and they weigh nothing; they are lighter than a mere breath.

We are like a puff of wind; our days are like a passing shadow.

It is useless, useless, said the Philosopher. Life is useless, all useless.

Then I thought about all that I had done and how hard I had worked doing it, and I realized that it didn't mean a thing. It was like chasing the wind---of no use at all.

The nations are nothing at all to him.